All the World's a Stage
by boldlikeblack
Summary: And everyone has a part to play, even Becky Rosen. First in the Stageverse.


**A/N: Becky is one of my favourite characters on Supernatural. I also adore Emily Perkins, who plays her. I'm a bad person for not updating my Glee fic first, but I just couldn't help myself. Inspiration struck and I ran with it. Let me know what you think.**

It happened one dark and stormy night in May.

Becky was sitting at home alone, again, drowning her sorrows over her extremely short relationship with Chuck. She knew her fangirlism bordered on the insane when it came to Sam and Dean, but Chuck hadn't seemed to mind, not really, not in the way most men would have. He seemed to really understand her attachment to the boys, even before Becky had known they were real people. Becky had thought that they had something between them and for the first time in her life, she'd been excited at the thought of having a relationship with a living, breathing man who wasn't a fictional character that danced like a puppet in her head.

After the convention, however, things didn't go anywhere. Sure, Chuck had taken her on a few dates, and Becky may or may not have languished by the phone for hours waiting for him to call again, but it just...ended. There was no real rhyme or reason as to why. Chuck had simply called her up, out of the blue, and told her that he respected her too much to continue their "charade of a relationship."

Becky had been so devastated that she couldn't even take solace in her fanfic. Reading it reminded her of Chuck, which made her sad. That, in turn, made her want to drown her sorrows in Chunky Monkey ice cream, which was what she was doing when her doorbell rang.

Becky was so startled that she jumped about five feet in the air and landed on the floor. The ice cream container also landed on the floor, spilling creamy banana goodness all over. Dusting herself off, Becky sighed. It was such a waste.

"Just a minute!" she shouted, running to her kitchen to get a towel for the mess. The doorbell rang again as Becky returned to the living room to clean up the mess.

"I'll be right there!" she called again, mopping up the spilled ice cream and setting the container to rights on the coffee table.

As the doorbell continued to ring, Becky sighed and made her way to the door. She grabbed a pinch of salt from the dish on her windowsill since it was, after all, the middle of the apocalypse and a girl could never be too careful and turned the knob. As the front door swung open, Becky discreetly threw the salt onto the feet of the person standing outside. When her visitor didn't run shrieking from the substance, she looked up, only to be stunned stupid.

Standing in the pouring rain, darkening her doorstep is the huge, hulking, firm form of Sam Winchester. His hair was plastered to his forehead and there were raindrops dripping off his nose. Becky's mouth fell open and she lost all power of speech.

"Uh, hi Becky," Sam said, "do you think I could come in? It's kinda wet out here."

Becky blinked and closed her mouth with a click. She gestured for him to come in and stepped out of the doorway. Sam followed, looking out the door quickly before shutting it behind him. "Thanks," he said, "do you maybe have a towel or something. I don't want to drip all over your floor."

"Oh, yeah," Becky said quickly, "sure of course. Let me just get that for you. There's linoleum in the kitchen, you can wait there and I'll mop it up later. Maybe I could make you some cocoa to help you warm up. Do you even like cocoa? That was never in the books."

To her surprise and joy, Sam smiled. "Just a towel will be fine," he replied.

Becky nodded and nearly walked into the couch on her way to the linen closet. When she returned to the kitchen, Sam was sitting in one of the chairs, just staring out the window. His jacket was on the chair beside him and, judging by the way his shirts clung to his frame, the rain had soaked into it.

Becky felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she took in Sam's well muscled form. "Here," she squeaked, thrusting the towel at him.

Sam smiled and ran the towel over his hair and shoulders. When he was done, Sam put the towel around his neck, presumably to catch any errant drips. As his eyes focused on her, Becky swallowed thickly. It was one thing to feel him up in a hotel room in front of Dean or blow kisses to him in a crowded convention, but another completely to be his sole focus as he sat in her kitchen. She was suddenly very aware that her favourite old sweatpants hung a little low on her hips and that the sloppy ponytail holding her hair back wasn't exactly the most gorgeous and flattering.

Becky smiled quickly and busied herself filling up the kettle and setting it to boil. "So where's Dean?" she asked conversationally.

"He's with Cas and Bobby," Sam replied.

"Oh," Becky said, getting two mugs from the cupboard. The kitchen filled with silence as Becky filled the mugs and stirred in the hot chocolate mix. "I hope this is okay," she said, setting a mug down in front of Sam and taking a seat at the table, "because you didn't answer before and you did say that you just wanted the towel and.."

Sam silenced her with a lift of his hand. "This is fine and, for the record, I do like hot cocoa."

They sat in silence as they each drank their cocoa. Becky's brain got way ahead of her and then veered off to the side every time Sam lifted his arms to drink. Her train of thought was effectively derailed by the way his massive arms flexed under his damp shirts and she nearly induced a fangasm imagining what it would feel like to have him wrap his arms around her which, of course, would never happen because he was a real person and not a fictional character and no matter how hard she threw herself at him it just wasn't going to happen and she really, really wished that her brain would just shut off and leave her alone.

"I don't mean to be rude, Sam," she said finally, "but why are you here?"

Sam shrugged and set his cup down. "I've been asking myself the same question," he said quietly.

"And?" Becky asked, leaning forward.

Sam's gorgeous eyes stole her breath when they met her own. "It's the end of the world, Becky," he said.

"I don't understand," Becky said, scrambling out of her chair to wash out her mug. She swore and dropped the mug when Sam came up behind her and reached around her side to place his own mug in the sink. Her brain clouded up with his close proximity and dear sweet merciful kittens he smelled **good**.

"I don't expect you to," he said, taking the cloth from her hand and cleaning out his mug.

Becky stepped back quickly and dried her hands on the dish towel hanging from her stove. She turned to face Sam again, plastering a smile on her face. "Well it's been really nice to catch up with you," she babbled, "and I'm terribly flattered that you stopped by at all, but I'm sure that you've got very important apocalypse-stopping things to do so..."

"You know," Sam said, stepping into Becky's personal space, "what I said at the convention was true."

Becky licked her lips and backed up, bumping into the stove. "You said a lot of things at the convention."

"I honestly don't know if I'm going to be okay, Becky," he whispered. His eyes turned a darker shade of green and he loomed over her.

Becky's poor, obsessed, Chuck-battered heart pounded in her chest. She laughed nervously. "It's the end of the world, Sam," she babbled, "we can't know if anyone is going to be okay."

Becky's knees collapsed as Sam caught her mouth in a demanding kiss. Luckily, Sam had the foresight to loop his arm around her waist. He pulled her tight to him and kissed her in a way that had Becky seeing stars and having trouble remembering her own name.

It was better than anything she could have ever written. Sam's taste was indescribable and intoxicating. Unknowingly, Becky's fingers tangled in Sam's damp shirt as she kissed him back. When they broke apart, they were gasping for air. "Why?" she asked, dazed and drunk on his kisses.

"Because you love me," Sam said before dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

Becky's toes curled as Sam's skilled lips danced across her neck. She couldn't help the little moan that slipped out as his hand skimmed up her chest and around her neck. He tipped her head back and kissed her again, deeply and possessively.

"Becky," Sam whispered huskily, "I need you."

The desperation in his voice nearly broke Becky's heart. Hearing Sam say those words to her was a dream come true, but the pain in his voice made it impossible for her to enjoy them. Her heart lodged in her throat as she trailed kisses along his jaw. "I'm yours for the taking, Sam," she said honestly.

Sam kissed her hard and lifted her up, hooking one arm under her knees to carry her bridal style into the living room. "My bedroom's at the end of the hall," Becky whispered softly.

"Right, bedroom," Sam said, smiling lopsidedly and carrying her down the hall.

There was an awkward moment when Sam tried to open the door with Becky in his arms, which Becky found insanely endearing. She suggested that he put her down and let her open the door, which tended to stick, but Sam had politely shaken his head and informed her that he intended to do things right.

As sweet as Sam was, when he gently laid Becky on the bed and started undressing her, she had no illusions about what was going to happen. Becky knew that she wasn't going to hold his heart like Jessica. She knew that she was going to be one of many Winchester conquests. Even though it was stupid and certifiably crazy and probably going to hurt more in the long run, Becky loved Sam enough to be what he needed, even just this once.

When all of her clothes were gone, Sam kissed her gently. "Are you sure you want to do this Becky?" he asked with concern in his eyes.

Becky kissed him hard, pulling at the hem of his shirt and hoping that was answer enough. He responded by unbuttoning his over shirt and throwing both it and his t-shirt on the floor.

As Becky kissed him, her fingers danced across the scars on his back. His skin was smoother than she imagined and she could feel the muscles of his back flexing as he took off his pants. Sam's hands in turn, were all over her, touching her in ways that were probably illegal in some countries.

Becky felt nothing but bliss when Sam entered her. He was an amazing lover. He knew when to be patient and when to be rash. He knew when to be rough and when to be gentle. Sam took her to heights she had only read existed. She even had a surreal moment when she realized that the other fanfic writers would never realize how inadequate their words were in describing how Sam Winchester could make a person feel.

Sooner than she would have liked, Sam had Becky coming apart at the seams. Without breaking his stride, he kept thrusting, urging her on. Becky reached a place of complete and utter delirium. There was nothing but Sam and the intense sensations he made her feel. Her voice grew hoarse from calling his name. Then, his thrusts hit something inside her that nearly blinded her.

Becky's vision cleared quickly and she got to witness a moment that would be branded on her memory forever. Sam's beautiful eyes rolled back in his head and every muscle in his body tensed. She nearly came again as Sam called her name, spilling himself inside of her. Sam shook as he came down from his high and pressed a sweaty kiss to her temple.

"Thank you," he whispered as he rolled beside her and closed his eyes.

Becky kissed Sam softly and let her head rest on his chest, letting the sound of his breathing lull her to sleep.

**BBBBBB**

There was a flash of lightning outside as Lucifer stared down at the pitiful human girl who was still tangled in the sex-soiled sheets of her bed. It had been so easy to lure her into bed. It was almost laughable. All it had taken was a plea in his vessel's voice and she was putty in his hands.

Lucifer hadn't enjoyed the coupling, of course, as such things were beneath a creature of his Heavenly pedigree, but it had been necessary. As he placed his vessel's hand over the skin of Becky's abdomen, he smiled to himself. He could already feel the first stirrings of new life inside.

On the off chance that Dean and Sam Winchester succeeded in sending him back to hell, Lucifer was now satisfied that there would be an appropriate vessel waiting for him when he escaped the pit for good.

Lucifer could feel Sam rallying against him in their shared mind. The boy had not been pleased while Lucifer had been seducing Becky. Once or twice, Sam had been so outraged that he'd nearly broken through the barrier between them. His vessel apparently had a soft spot for this particularly deranged mud monkey.

Still smiling, Lucifer brushed a hand over Becky's hair, tasting her dreams. She shifted in her sleep and Lucifer saw the idyllic life she wished for herself. A small house in Kansas, with a white picket fence, Sam kissing her goodbye as he rode off in the Impala with Dean to hunt, playing with a dog and two little children, a boy and a girl, who had Sam's eyes and smile. The true, honest love the girl felt for his vessel would have made him feel bad for her if Lucifer was capable of such emotions.

"Thank you, Becky," he whispered genuinely.

"Welcome," she sighed in her sleep, "love you, Sam."

With that, Lucifer departed.


End file.
